Samuel
by polyisobutene
Summary: Sam Puckett is cleaning out her Grandmothers attic when she stumbles upon an old chest. Now she must help her ancestor find his soul mate or be stuck with him forever, and stuck with certain parts of his anatomy as well. Futa CAM
1. The attic

"God, alright already!" Sam shouted, storming up the carpeted stairs to the second story. "I don't understand why I have to help clean up Gran's old shiz anyways," she mumbled under her breath in annoyance.

For once, it was a beautiful Saturday in Seattle. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and there Sam was stuck inside of her Grandmother's house for 'spring cleaning'. While Sam loved her Grandmother greatly (after all she was the one who taught the young Puckett most of her breaking-and-entering skills) she was probably at least equally disdainful of house hold chores.

"Start with the attic, Melanie should have left the cleaning supplies up there!" her mother shouted with a wicked grin. Sure she loved her daughters, but sometimes it was fun to torture them a little here and there. Mama-Puckett was only human after all.

Blue eyes peered into the bucket brimming with chemicals and dusters. Carelessly hefting the grey container over her shoulder Sam walked over to the old wooden staircase that was already pulled free from the ceiling.

"Because that doesn't look sketchy at all," Sam huffed, tentatively placing a converse-clad shoe onto the faded wood. The staircase squealed with each hesitant step, and Sam let out a sigh of relief when she finally placed both feet onto the floor of the attic.

Her nose wrinkled at the heavy smell of must and dust that clung to the air. She traced her finger along the top of an old dresser, grimacing at the thick pad of dust she accumulated on her finger.

"Really? When was the last time anyone was up here?" she mused to herself, wiping her hand off on her torn blue jeans, "Might as well get this over with."

Pulling out the old feather duster Sam began to assault the modest sized attic. The blonde quickly tugged her shirt over her nose, small clouds of dust dancing around her as she carelessly navigated her way through the store room of old forgotten items. The dull gray room began to come to life as vivid colors and textures were freed from their dust tombs. Finally Sam reached the other end of the attic where a small circular window sat caked with grime. Using her jacket cover elbow Sam cleaned a small circle and peered curiously outside. Bright golden sunlight burst into the room causing Sam to stumble back and cover her eyes with a small cry of shock.

"What the frick," she growled, rubbing her eyes vigorously, "stupid sun!"

Blinking away the white spots, she peered outside of the small segment of cleared glass once more. A dull skyline of trees met her gaze. "Lame," she commented quietly.

Tromping back to the bucket, Sam pulled out some glass cleaner and paper towels. With clear glass, the small window poured forth an endless stream of yellow light, bringing the attic to life. Sam spun on her heel, grimacing at the streak of foot prints in the dust coated floor.

"Just great," she growled.

With an angry huff she marched down the creaking the staircase, stomped down the cream-colored stairwell, stalked into the kitchen and yanked the broom from her mother, and repeated her journey back to the attic. The mother of the Puckett twins laughter could be heard from the house next door.

Broom in tow, Sam began sweeping the splintering wood floor. The mind numbing activity began to lull her into a daze, her blue eyes sweeping the attic without thought.

It was then. The broom came to a halt; blue eyes glued themselves to a chest she had previously failed to notice before. Letting the broom clatter to the ground, Sam stepped slowed towards the black chest, a strange sort of excitement shooting through her veins. Her hands shook as she knelt down; fingers gripped the side handles of the large box. She gave it a tug, and was surprised by how heavy the container seemed to be. Shifting her weight for better leverage, she tugged again using her full body weight. The chest jumped free of its hiding place beneath a table.

Regaining her balance Sam crawled over to the opening of the chest, admiring the gold embossed _S. Puckett_ on the face. She jingled the lock and grinned. With a little more cajoling the old, rusted lock creaked and fell to the ground. Sheer delight twinkled in blue eyes as Sam pushed open the chest and began to rummage through the contents. Inside she found men's clothing, but the style looked from several generations ago. Shifting the clothes to the side a pile of journals with the same embossing as the chest were exposed. Sam picked up one of the brown leather journals and flipped it open. The ripe scent of old books assaulted her noise as she quickly skimmed the sharp cursive handwriting. Finding nothing of interest in the journal her rummage through the chest continued.

Shoving the books to one side, a devious smile stretched across Sam's face. An old liquor bottle rested at the very bottom of the chest, surrounded by a protective layer of woolen socks. Pulling out the thick glass bottle, Sam wiped at the sides to try and find a label however the label appeared to have been scratched out some time ago. With a shrug Sam slammed the chest shut and sat down on top of it. With a twist of her wrist the cork slid out with a loud, satisfying pop. Sam brought the bottle to her nose, taking a deep breath of the brisk scent of hard liquor.

After a quick scan of the attic, and feeling assured that no one was going to walk in on her, Sam brought the bottle to her mouth and took a large swig. The taste was nothing she had ever had, and it frankly it wasn't good either. Like some strange combination of green tea, lavender, and whiskey. Sam forced the mouthful down, the burn unconscionable compared to other liquors she had tried before.

"The shiz," she whizzed while beating on her chest as she tried to control the coughing fit that overcame her. Roughly jabbing the cork in place Sam rose and replaced the bottle in the chest.

"Freaking gross, man!" she coughed, roughly shoving the chest back underneath the table.

"Are you almost done up there, Sam?" Melanie's voice flitted through the attic opening.

Sam jumped and walked over to look down at her mirror image. "Yeah, Mel. Be down in like five, 'kay?"

The other twin nodded and disappeared from sight. Sam sighed and picked the broom back, attempting to finish what she had started. The burn inside of her stomach began to subside, and for the rest of the day Sam gave no thought to the black chest in the attic.

By dinnertime however, Sam felt as sick as she did when Missy had slipped her spoiled chocolates three years ago. Hidden under a pile of blankets she moaned in pain, clutching her stomach. Melanie walked in with a wet rag and stomach medicine.

"Here," Melanie sat down next to her twin and ran the rag across Sam's sweaty forehead. Sam moaned in a combination of relief and pain. Melanie poured the purple liquid onto the spoon and held it out. "Swallow," she commanded gently.

Sam wrapped her lips around the spoon and swallowed the purple swill. Falling back into the blankets she rolled over onto her side again.

"Why don't you take a shower and I will change the sheets?" Melanie offered, saddened by the sight of the sickly teenager. "It might make you feel better."

Sam moaned, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. Her tank top was plastered to skin with sweat, and she felt grimy after the whole day of cleaning. She chewed on the thought mentally for several seconds before rolling out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes and a towel, and stumbling into the bathroom.

Melanie couldn't help but smile as she watched the other version of herself stumble blindly into the bathroom. With a sigh, she started to strip the bed.

Sam sighed in content as the steaming water soothed her aching muscles and cleaned away the grim and sweat from the day. She felt the familiar pangs of arousal, and groaned in excitement as she relaxed the best way she knew how, a hot shower and an orgasm.

By the time Sam stumbled out of the bathroom Melanie had made the bed and left a glass of water and the bottle of stomach medicine on the nightstand. The bed was neatly made with fresh blue bed sheets. Sam crawled underneath the sheets, and in an instant fell into a deep, dream filled sleep.

The loud blare of her mother's voice was the next thing Sam heard. Her mom and Gran were arguing outside of the house by the beat up wagon the Puckett family owned.

"No I will not adopt another one of your cats!" her mom shouted, storming into the garage and muffling the rest of the conversation.

Sam rolled over and stretched, making a satisfied noise in the back of her throat. The aches and pains of the day before had seemingly melted away over night. Sam was contented to remain the confines of the soft sheets as long as she could, but her body was telling her otherwise.

"Oh man, I need to take a leak," Sam groaned, all but sprinting into the bathroom. Slamming the white door shut, she tugged her plaid pajama pants down but paused. Her green boxer shorts looked different, more filled out. Sam grumbled, pulling the waistband away from her skin and with the other hand reached in to tug out whatever had made its way into her shorts (it had happened before, after all). Her hands however did not find socks like she had been expecting.

Sam pushed her boxer shorts down and stared at the new fleshy protrusion before proceeding to let out a head-splitting scream.


	2. Past Lives

Sam(uel)

Authors Note: Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts. I will be updating more regularly now that school is out.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will make a profit from this creative adventure.

"What the fuck is this?" Sam screeched, poking at the new appendage. A nervous tingle coursed through her body. Sam realized that she could in fact receive sensory data from the new…thing, it was real.

"That, lil' miss, is called a penis."

Sam jumped, tugging her boxers back up to her waist. "Who said that!" she leered, twisting in the small bathroom in an attempt to find the peeping-tom.

"I did, you moron!"

Sam jumped again. With a snap of her waist she whirled around and sent a jab into the direction of the voice. Straight into the mirror.

"GAH! Damn it!" she cried, cradling her bloody knuckles to her chest.

"You really should look before you punch your own reflection, idiot."

Eyes blurred with tears Sam looked up to the broken mirror. Within the spidery lines of broken shards a tall blonde man smirked back at her. Sam looked over her shoulder, seeing no one there.

"I must be tripping on something," she grumbled staring at the image in the mirror. "Cause this is some messed up shit."

"I could only wish it was really that simple," the man sighed. He stepped away from the epicenter of the impact, his image becoming clearer. "Unfortunately, that is not the case."

Sam cooked an eyebrow, unimpressed by the hallucination. "Sure thing, imaginary-friend-o-mine," she picked up a towel and wrapped it around her bruising knuckles, "whatever floats your pretend-boat."

"This is serious Samantha, you rea-"

"Oh, no no no no no! No creation of my brain is going to be calling me Samantha," Sam spat, leaning against the wall across the mirror.

"Fine then," he sighed in exasperation. "Sam," he enunciated pointedly, "I need you to stop being a meat head for two minutes and listen to me."

Sam scratched her head with her good hand, "I knew all those cleaning chemicals were going to give me brain damage, thanks Mom!" she grumbled.

"Would you be quiet!" the man in the mirror snapped, his blue eyes shining just a bit more brightly.

Sam went to retort, but found her jaw clamped shut. She rubbed her jaw, huffing and grunting angrily as it continued to refuse to open.

The man chuckled, "Good, now where was I? Ah, right. So Sam, did you happen to do anything strange yesterday? Find something, touch something, consume something…?" he asked.

Sam huffed, what harm could it be if she told her hallucination about the bottle in the attic. She mimed taking a drink out of bottle.

The man slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "My reincarnation is as stupid as I was at that age," he groaned. "And it's a girl. Screw you too, karma!"

"Reincar- what?" Sam asked, resting her elbows against the sink.

"Reincarnation- ugh, you know what. Let me start from the beginning," the man in the mirror sighed. "My name is Samuel Puckett."

Sam gave him a blank stare, her mind fleeting more towards the waves of pain emitting from her hand, "So what?"

"So what?" he mocked, "So when you drank my Shen instead of it just passing through you, it thought it found its body again and now I am stuck inside of you!" he jabbed his finger against the mirror.

"My bad?" Sam shrugged her shoulders, "so wait a sec, you mean that nasty butt drink I found in the attic?" she asked.

"Exactly," Samuel crossed his arms. "And now it appears that I am stuck inside of you and you well…grew a penis in an attempt to fix the yin and yang between our two spirits."

Sam groaned, her stomach flipping at the reminder of her new friend. "Yin yang Shen, I don't see how Chinese food has anything to do with this!" she grabbed the front of her shorts.

"I was in the business of trading of less than legal Chinese goods and drugs, you see my supplier was an old Chinese lady who mixed me up a Shen, it was medicine made specifically for my spirit. She said to be careful with it but how the hell was I supposed to know that my silly female reincarnation was going to go and drink it!" he huffed, catching his breath. "Our spirit is whole, it has both yin and yang, and it can be brought back in both those forms. I am the yang, the masculine half, while you're the yin, feminine. My best guess is that our merging created a balance of yin and yang, you keep your feminine qualities but also have male ones too."

"So you sold drugs, had some crazy Asian lady make you a drink with your spirit in it, and left in a chest for me to find?" Sam summarized, scrunching up her face, "If she made you the medicine, why didn't you ever take it?"

Samuel deflated, his shoulder slumping into his chest. "The love of my life's husband came and shot me…he discovered that Charlotte and I were having an affair. I suppose someone packed my stuff away and sent it to my family in Washington."

"Wow, it really does run in the family," Sam laughed sliding down the wall and thumping heavily against the tile floor.

"You seem to be taking this rather well," Samuel commented, looking down at the young woman.

"I don't know why, I should be fucking freaked that I have a dick and a voice in my head that comes with hallucinations in mirrors but…" she gazed down at the apex between her legs. "I don't feel like it's wrong. My stomach isn't telling me that anything is wrong. My brain does, but my heart doesn't. I just-"

A loud banging on the bathroom door startled Sam out of her musing.

"Grandma says if you broke her mirror she is not going to be very happy," Melanie warned from the other side of the door.

Sam scurried to her feet and cracked the door open, blues eyes meeting identical ones, "Yeah, I am sure in far more colorful words," she snorted.

Melanie blushed and stepped back, "She may have said it in more vulgar terms but I got the message across.

"Okay," Sam drawled, "You going to let me shit in peace?" she sniggered.

Melanie sighed and walked away, wondering how she and Sam could ever be related.

Sam turned around, poised to ask another question but paused in surprise. The mirror rested across from her completely unharmed, and her own reflection greeted her. She unwrapped her hand gingerly, eyes growing even wider. Her knuckles, once bleeding profusely, were fine.

"That was some strange shit," she rested against the counter gazing at her reflection.

"Indeed."

Sam gave a shriek and fell backwards, her face morphing back into Samuels.

"I am not dreaming."

"No, you aren't."

Carly Shay couldn't pin point what was wrong with her best friend. She knew that the blonde had bathed, was well feed (with ham no less), made some spare pocket change from helping her grandmother, and even appeared to be on civil terms with most of her eccentric family.

So what was bothering Sam?

She noticed that something was off with the young rebel when she gave the most awkward hug in the history of hugging kind. It had taken years to train the young Puckett in the art of proper hug-age, so when Sam gave the awkward Christian shoulder hug Carly immediately knew something was wrong. Where was the full body contact? The strong arms wrapped tightly around her? The scent of her vanilla shampoo?

It did not stop there either. While Sam's appetite had been unreal before, now it bordered on insane. Spencer's theory that a black hole opened up in her stomach was starting to look plausible, and Carly was a semi-realist. Having to grocery shop every single day was becoming a little out of hand, and Spencer was understandably displeased.

Then there was this sudden need for personal space, personal space? Neither girl had a semblance of personal space with the other for years! If there were bubbles, theirs were shared! But suddenly Sam needed 'alone time' and refused to share a bed with her best friend turned girlfriend (almost a year ago- thirteen days till their anniversary, Carly mentally noted). And frankly, Carly was becoming a little more than upset.

The brunette tapped her foot impatiently, her hard gaze leveled on the door. Sam would be walking through that door soon after a trip to the corner store for some Peppy Cola. Carly glanced at her watch, crossing her arms tightly body. A swirl of adrenaline rushed through her as the door handle jiggled. She was going to get an answer from the petite blonde. By force if she had to.

"Hey Car- Ouch, you okay there?" Sam knelt down, worry written on her face as she assessed the face-planted form of Carly Shay.

Carly groaned, picking herself up off the ground with the assistance of her girlfriend. She had defiantly misjudged that one, perhaps leaping off the armchair next to the door to tackle Sam wasn't the best idea she had had that day.

"Hey, you are starting to freak me out here. Earth to Shay, come in Shay!" Sam knelt down next to Carly, waving her hand in front of the brunettes face as couple times.

"I am fine," Carly waved her off, shuffling to her feet. "Just tripped is all."

"Yeah," Sam snorted, "just tripped a couple vertical feet in the air, do you want to tell me what really happened."

Carly sighed and crossed her arms, "My ambush failed."

"Your ambush?"

"My ambush."

"Try that one again, in English," Sam asked striding into the kitchen and putting the case of Peppy Cola into the fridge.

Carly sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. "I just," she gnawed on her lip, "you haven't really been…here recently."

Sam swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, her eyes glued to the white teeth grazing over sweet pink lips. "I- I ahhh, I have been here Carls," she chocked out.

"No you haven't Sam!" Carly brought out the puppy dog eyes. Sam felt herself almost literally melt. "Well, I mean you have literally been here, but not up here," Carly pointed to her head.

"I have a lot on my mind?" Sam responded, cursing that her answer sounded more like a question.

_Don't you though? _Sam winced.

"See, like that!" Carly, walked towards Sam, gradually pinning the rebel to the fridge. She smiled as she felt Sam's arms instinctively wrap around her waist. "What's that matter?"

It took all of her effort not to groan out loud as Carly pressed herself flush against her front. A newly familiar and very unwanted sensation began to rise in the pit of her stomach. "I literally have a lot on my mind, you know with college and all…" she fibbed, conjuring up images of very unappealing things to prevent the swell of excitement from proceeding any further, most of them including Freddie's mom.

Carly leaned back, seeing the wash of nerves evident on the young Puckett's face. She and Sam had discussed their plans for their continued education before, but as application deadlines grew closer she could understand Sam's apparent trepidation concerning school, given her record and all.

"Oh, Sam" she fussed, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair away. "You know that you stand a good chance at getting into every school you are applying to! You worked really hard to get your grades up," Carly traced her face with her finger tips. "You just have to try," she gave her girlfriend a brief peck on the lips.

A jolt ran through Sam's body, fueling the growing fire in her body. "I have to use the loo!" she cried, gently but rapidly extracting herself from Carly and all but sprinting into the bathroom.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Sam alone in the small restroom. She glared at the mirror, unsurprised as Samuel appeared. It had been five days since the attic incident. The image of her dear, dead past life appeared to be only visible in reflections.

"You seem to have to the self control of a prepubescent overly sexualized boy," Samuel commented, smirking at the growing bulge within Sam's jeans, "at least you are a well endowed one."

Sam huffed, ensuring that the door was locked before she flicked the tub water on and sat down on the closed toilet seat. "Oh shut it," she hissed quietly.

"You can't hide this forever you know," Samuel commented, having the decency to look away as Sam went about fixing her problem. "You do have an anniversary coming up, and you know as well as I do that you are 'going to be getting some', to put it into modern terms."

"Gah, would you shut-up already? And how the hell do you know our anniversary!" Sam glared at the mirror.

"What else to do I have to do all day while stuck in your mind but browse a little," Samuel supplied.

"It isn't like I can do anything about this," Sam growled, getting up to wash her hands in the sink.

"You haven't really tried anything, now have you?" Samuel asked.

"I used the internet," Sam deadpanned, turning the water off. "If the answer isn't on-line somewhere, than it doesn't exist."

"I don't know why you're generation places so much stock in this 'interweb', but might I suggest a visit to Chinatown?" the well-dressed mirror image proposed.

"Why?" she shot back.

"I have a feeling that our answer might be there…."

"…you didn't mention this before because?"

"I hadn't really thought of it," he mused, the trademark I-Could-Care-Less Puckett grin gracing his features.

Sam opened the door, spotting Carly dressed in a skimpy pair of pajama shorts and one of the blondes various band t-shirts eating popcorn on the couch. Two slender legs crossed over each other, tantalizing the blonde.

Sam gulped, for once happy about the fact that men have limited stamina. "So Cupcake, how's about we go to Chinatown tomorrow to kiss and make-up?" Sam asked, flopping down onto the sofa.


End file.
